


Bloodfallen

by yayanaptime



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Assassination, Gen, One Shot, Vampires, it might be continued, or maybe not
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-05
Updated: 2018-07-05
Packaged: 2019-06-05 13:25:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,964
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15171671
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yayanaptime/pseuds/yayanaptime
Summary: Carmilla attempts to win favour with Voldemort by ridding him of his most annoying enemy.





	Bloodfallen

 

“My Lord,” Lady Carmilla bowed her head courteously, a gesture she had become  _ most unfamiliar  _ with in the past century, “I would rather that my people were respected as equal allies and not treated as inferior minions.”

The shade of a man before her- looking less human than the ugliest of her coven with his pale, scaly skin, lash-less red eyes and slit nostrils- laughed in a high, maniacal tone. “You are unworthy,  vampire, of the status I give only to my most trusted Death Eaters. What have you done to me, Carmilla? How have you proven yourself?”

Preventing herself from lashing out with great effort, Carmilla gritted her teeth at the insult instead and kept her tone of voice steady and reverent. “Give me a task, my Lord. Let me prove the worth of my coven.”

The laughter only continued. “A task to prove your worth, your worth as an equal?” Voldemort paused for a moment, “I can think of only one.”

“Tell me, my Lord, and it shall be done.”

“Kill him.” said Voldemort, with finality.

Carmilla paused. “Kill Albus Dumbledore?” she asked.

“No, you fool. Kill  _ him _ . Kill the one I cannot touch. Kill Harry Potter. If you can do that, then you have proved your worth as my equal, and your coven’s worth as equal to my death eaters. Although, I will not wait up on your success.” 

With that, Voldemort rose from his throne and left the room, making a dismissive gesture with a long-fingered hand.

Carmilla shook with anticipation. Kill one 15-year old boy and pave the way into a future where vampires enjoyed full equality with humans. She too, withdrew from the room with the beginnings of a plan forming in her head, leaving the gathered Death Eaters to mutter to each other.

Lucius turned to his long-time friend, “How do you think she’ll do it?” 

“I doubt she can get to him. Even with Dumbledore suspended, he’s well protected- Hogwarts’s wards are strong.” Severus said, tapping his fingers on his silver mask.

“I hope she fails,” said Lucius, “not that I have any fondness for the boy or anything- I simply can’t stand the idea of being forced to cosy up to vampires.”

Severus laughed. “You never change, old friend.”

Crabbe, easily recognisable, if not by his physique, then by the fact that he never repaired his mask since half of it was melted by a hex thrown by an Auror during an unsuccessful raid, leaned over. “Ten galleons says she kills him before the month is out,” he said.

Severus grinned. “Twenty she fails. Another five she either dies or gets captured trying.”

“A hundred she fails, forty she’s captured, and add ten that she manages to kill at least one Order member before they catch her.” Lucius smirked, ever careless with his vast wealth.

The bets piled in, and the idiot Crabbe had to whip out a notebook and get each of his comrades to repeat their wager, and slowly this time, if you could. Severus took the opportunity to slip away as the bets were placed, finding a sort of horrified amusement in the increasingly more complex wagers and the complacent stupidity of his fellows.

He kept his mind clear of all thoughts until he was past the manor’s wards and had apparated to a remote safehouse. Once there, he flicked his wand to clear the various healing potions he had set out back to their respective cupboards, thankful he did not need to use them. He predicted that, should the Dark Lord find Crabbe’s notebook, each one named within would face a round of the _cruciatus_. He would definitely need those potions after the next meeting. 

Slumped at his desk, he took a moment to catch his breath and shed his Death Eater persona- both physically by removing his mask, and mentally. He dragged a leaf of parchment over the rough, unpolished wood of his desk towards him and uncorked an inkwell with a dull pop. 

_ Dear Albus _

_ It has been too long since our last correspondence.  _ _ I fear my garden has taken too much of my attention away from keeping up contact with old friends. Speaking of gardening, I worry for my prized rose bush, with a storm on the horizon! Yes, the usual protections are in effect, but you know what I’m like. The weather report was quite graphic! I read it in a muggle paper that an ill tempered old man selling the sourest little apples I’ve ever tasted lent me, so you won’t find it in the Prophet. I would suggest that you look it up, but the name of the paper has completely slipped my mind…  _ and the letter went on, babbling about gardening and spellwork with a carefully hidden core that relayed in detail the meeting Severus attended without the use of a cipher or concealment spells that could be broken with a key or magical power. After signing it with a flourishing  _ Publius Crozier,  _ Severus sent the letter via a nondescript barn owl to the suspended Headmaster. 

Dumbledore’s suspension was…  _ inconvenient,  _ to say the least, now he had no excuse to be in regular contact with the man. Severus had set aside time to recover from torture, time he could now use to take a nap now his duties were taken care of. He had no idea how much would change by the time he woke up.

 

Lady Carmilla had informants  _ everywhere,  _ and she knew how to use them. It took less than an hour to track Sirius Black down, incapacitate and apparate him to the depths of the forbidden forest. She intended to complete her task with speed and efficiency, and caution like the future of her race depended on it- which it quite possibly did. Every step was carefully mulled over and locked in its place in her plan, a plan built on thrice-verified information and her own cunning.

A cold sort of joy bubbled through her veins when she found the two-way mirror that linked with an identical one in the Potter child’s possession, and the plan warped and flexed to accommodate the new information. Drawing him out of the castle would be easier than she thought. 

 

The package hidden under Harry’s bed quite abruptly, burst into flames. Cursing, Harry jumped off his bed and smothered the fire with a pillow, and used it to drag the mirror out from under his bed. No doubt due to the silencing charms he cast around his bed to muffle his nightmares, the other occupants of the dormitory snored on even when he let out a loud yelp after reaching down to touch the burning-hot mirror.

_ Sirius’s mirror.  _

_ Did something happen? Is he in trouble? _

Using the scorched pillow, Harry cleaned off the soot and ash so he could see clearly. 

“Sirius? Is everything okay?” he kept his voice to a whisper despite the need, repeating himself over and over until he either heard a reply or could see what was going on on the other side.

He heard the screams first, and when he cleared the mirror, he could see moonlight filtering down through thick pine needles. Then he heard another voice- calm, collected, amused, sadistic. A woman’s voice.

“Tell me, human, just what did you think you were doing wandering alone in  _ my  _ forest in the middle of the night?”

The screams continued. Harry felt helpless, frozen in place by the horror of what he was hearing, if not witnessing.

“Not that I mind, mind you, a little entertainment, a little snack- it reminds me of the good old days when the occasional student would take a wander in the ‘forbidden forest’ and never come back…” 

_ The Forbidden Forest. They’re in the Forbidden Forest. Sirius is in the Forbidden Forest and he’s in danger. _

In the end, Harry didn’t need Carmilla’s full performance for him to dash to his Godfather’s rescue, alone.

 

Carmilla smiled to herself as she stood back, the man bound on the floor glaring daggers at her. She tossed his wand up and down in her left hand. She didn’t usually see the need for a wand, being more than proficient at wandless magic- but something about the irony of torturing a man with his own wand amused her, so she did so. But now, it looked like this stage of the plan was finished, as her lookout had spotted a pajama-clad figure on a broom zooming at breakneck speed towards the forest. Really, humans are stupid creatures.

“What do you want with me?” the man finally found his voice to say.

_ Oh, silly man, you’ve given me what I want quite wonderfully,  _ she wanted to gloat, but gloating was for when Harry Potter was dead and she had Lord Voldemort’s favour.

It was only a few seconds later that Harry Potter executed a vertical dive down through the pine canopy, seamlessly rolling off his broom and into a duelling stance on the leaf litter as if he’d done it a hundred times before. Carmilla laughed and tossed the wand to one of her subordinates in the shadows.

“Well, well. What  _ do  _ we have here?” she cooed, gleeful.

“Harry, go back. Get away from here. Whatever this is, it’s a trap, a trap, do you hear me? Harry! GO!” Sirius strained against the ropes, struggled and shouted. 

“No. Not without you,” Harry said, raising his wand to cut the ropes “ _ diffindo.” _

Sirius righted himself in a flash, and attempted to summon his wand to no avail. He turned to his reckless Godson, who had had the same thought, but he was knocked unconscious in that moment.

“Sirius!” Harry yelled as his Godfather’s body hit the ground with a thud. He had realised too late that they were surrounded, with no time to fight or run or… 

“Harry. Don’t worry. He’s still alive, and I might even leave him that way if you’re  _ a very good boy.  _ Now, just hold still-” Carmilla circled her prey as the bait was dragged away, out of sight.  “-so very still, yes-” she plucked Harry’s wand from his trembling fingers, using her allure-laced voice to lull him into obedience without him noticing, tossing the wand to another capable subordinate for safekeeping. 

Then, she struck. 

Her teeth sank into the boy’s neck and she drank deeply, intending to drain him dry. 

 

The fear Harry felt for Sirius dulled into a happy, lazy sensation. He just wanted to hear more of her voice, wanted her to come nearer, to breathe deeply in her scent. He sighed in happiness when she held onto him and bit down, not thinking, not remembering for a small eternity until part of him- the part that threw off the  _ Imperius  _ curse last year, struggled for control of his body.

At the same time a cold sensation washed over him, reacted with his magic as if in a dance, and  _ something changed. _

“I won’t let you-” he managed to gasp, before the coldness won out and he clamped his jaws down on the vampire woman’s neck in turn.

A shocked gasp rippled through the surrounding vampires, but they made no move to interfere. This was a battle for leadership, a battle of the kind Lady Carmilla had won time over time to defend her position- a battle that, for the loser, meant death. They had no right to interfere, and by sacred pact, could not.

So instead they watched, breath abated, and waited to see if their lady could defeat this new vampire of her own creation.

When Carmilla writhed and was wrung out into dust, they mourned briefly, the loss of a fair and strong leader before bowing down before their new one, who stood alone in the centre of their circle.


End file.
